i love love love flyboy asks (but i admit i don’t get to them all…. that’s in me) entirely flyboy!jake coded.
also look at those arms 😵💫 i can’t even with him in this photo. that casual lean, hand behind his head. his legs..
reading this in the flyboy!era, but post part 6.
-
“Geez Jake, manspread more why don’t you,” Emma says as she walks back to the area where your group, a small sub-group of the Seresin brood, has positioned themselves. She punctuates her barb at her brother by raising a foot to kick his shin lightly.
“Ouch,” he says in response without even a slight change in expression or movement.
“Uncle Jake, your legs,” the little voice that trails behind Emma protests, as Kyle follows after his mother, picking his way past the obstacle that is Jake’s unmoving legs to scramble his aay onto the sofa, arms and legs first, rolling his body up to wedge himself in between his Uncle Jake and father.
“You did just fine buddy,” Jake teases in response, winking down at his nephew as Liam, Emma’s husband and Kyle’s father ruffles his son’s hair.
“You could have moved your legs,” you muse, voice tinged with amusement as you take a step forward, having been trailing behind Kyle.
“I could have,” is what Jake responds, moving his hand from behind his head so that he is reaching out to you. You slip your hand into his, letting him tug you down gently into his lap. Once you’ve perched down onto his lip, and thigh, your legs knocking against his other knee, Jake lets his arm slip around your waist while raising the glass he is holding in his other hand to let you take a sip out of the straw of your drink he had been holding for you. “But then I wouldn’t be able to do this.”
“Have you become my own personal armchair,” you joke, “complete with a cupholder?”
“I’ll have you only sit on me for the rest of your life if I could,” Jake’s response is cheesy, sappy and with a tinge of innuendo and it makes the group around you, save for the children, groan in a mixture of disgust and horror.
“You’re the worst,” is what Emma helpfully supplies for the group as she balls up a paper napkin to toss it at her brother’s head.
“Your worst,” is what Jake says as he ignores Emma and tilts his head up towards you asking for a kiss, which you oblige. It promptly earns him another round of groans.
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Flyboy!Jake you say??? You could write him going grocery shopping and I’d read it. Flyboy!Jake is my comfort character
he is mine as well!
-
You both look quite the sight walking hand in hand into the grocery store dressed to the nines Jake is still in his suit from the earlier dinner you both were made to attend at the behest of his Grandmother, bowtie undone and hanging from his collar, you in a floor length dress, the silky material flowing along with your movement and heels clicking under you.
The night air is cool, but the inside of the near empty supermarket is even cooler and Jake sees you shiver as you enter through the sliding doors, the blast of air conditioning hitting you. He lets go of your hand almost instantaneously, shrugging off his jacket immediately to drape it over your shoulders. It earns him a smile as you find yourself holding onto the lapels of his jacket, pulling the garment which smells deliciously like him closer to you.
“You always look better in my clothes,” is what Jake mumbles against your skin as he leans forward to press a kiss against your temple.
“Suck up,” you counter with a light roll of your eyes, but with a smile still dancing on your lips.
“For as long as I live,” he says re-tangling his fingers with yours as he guides you to the aisle you both had come for.
“Which one will it be?” He asks while you both stand shoulder to shoulder, eyes roaming over the selection of chocolate before you.
“I think,” you hum out as you let your gaze filter through the shelves, “that one,” you point towards on of the upper shelves in the direction of your favourite brand of chocolate.
“Guessed as much,” Jake grins, as he takes a step forward to swipe a handful of chocolate bars, off the shelf.
“No,” you say quickly in chastise as you see Jake’s gaze dart towards the top of the shelf where you both can see the side of an entire carton of your selected brand of chocolate bars peeking down, “you are not getting the entire carton again.”
Jake Seresin would buy you the whole galaxy if you asked for it.
this has been in draft form for very long, now spurred on post-twisters (damn you glen powell) and the need to write my comfort characters to feel happy.
Inspired by this picture because hot damn (i also blame this on you @lostinthefandoms11) - jake seresin x you / set in the flyboy!universe but you can read this as a standalone
-
“Where are you going dressed like a city boy?” the question from Grandma Doris makes Jake pause in his step, the set of keys he was swinging around his index finger jangling as he takes a few steps back, popping his head around the archway that leads into the large sitting room.
“To fetch my wife,” Jake says with a wide grin in his face, not bothering in the slightest to hide his glee.
“Must you take that beast you call a truck?” She continues with her questioning, gaze flickering with disdain to the keys that Jake is swill swinging around his index finger.
“Yes M’am,” Jake says his grin managing somehow to grow even wider, amusement trickling down his features at his Grandmother’s obvious distaste for his obnoxiously huge truck, modified excessively and to his fancy.
“Go,” she dismisses him with a sigh, before turning back to the book in her lap, knowing that her grandson was impossible to reason with.
“Love you,” Jake calls out before disappearing around the archway.
-
You’re sitting in the back of Jake’s truck, perched on Jake’s lap with your knees straddling either side of him, a gentle breeze darting around both of you in the early evening sun, a soft throw spread out on the surface of the back of the truck. His hands are around your waist, anchoring you down, your hands resting, one on the side of his neck, the other hand loosely off the side of his face. You both have your eyes closed, lips, tongue and teeth moving against each other.
“You know,” Jake manages to say between kisses, “I’ve always wanted to do this.”
You hum in response, not bothering to use words as you grind your hips not so subtly down into Jake’s lap. You are still dressed in your airport attire, tights with a loose t-shirt, and the thin layer affords you a delicious amount of friction.
“Fuck, baby,” your hips continue to grind down against Jake’s lap, and you feel his grip tighten against your waist.
“What do you mean you’ve always wanted to do this,” you find your voice against his lips, your fingers now moving to run themselves against the back of Jake’s head.
“I mean,” he says, pulling away, breaking the make out session you both had been engaged in like the pair of horny teenagers you both most certainly were too old to be, “I’ve considered what it would be like making out with you way too many times. Almost each time we’ve sat together in the back of a truck.”
Jake rests his forehead against yours, eyes flickering open to find yours. Both your chests are rising and falling, almost in a pant as you peer at him curiously through lids that are still heavy with lust.
“We’ve been in the back of a truck like this, parked out in a field loads of times.”
“Exactly,” you see Jake look at you, an amused smirk playing around his lips as he watches your thoughts and emotions flash across your face.
“Loads of times,” you echo again, and Jake surges up to kiss the side of your jaw.
“Exactly,” he repeats, his lips working their way to the space below your ear.
“This is Seresin owned land?” You ask your question as you tilt your neck, allowing Jake better access as his kisses now ghost downward the column of your neck. You knew the answer, given that Jake had hopped out of the truck to spin a combination of numbers into a heavy duty padlock which he unlocked before driving in.
“Yes,” you hear the question in his voice but he doesn’t stop his movements.
“Well,” you say, hands moving down to the button of his jeans, “shall we make a younger you very jealous?”
For VDay requests: maybe flyboy!Jake first Valentines with his girl? Or through the years maybe??
it is slightly after vday, but here we are! <3
flyboy!jake x female reader - you know i never turn down an opportunity to write flyboy!jake. all usualy flyboy!warnings apply. comments, reblogs, asks, etc. all welcome, i miss ya’ll!
I.
“Come in,” you call out, voice nasal from the cold that was wrecking its way through your body. You don’t bother turning around, choosing instead to stay curled up in fetal position on your side, the covers wrapped securely around you. You keep your eyes on the laptop, which you had flipped on its side to align with the current orientation of your head, half focused on the re-run of the sitcom playing on screen.
You hear the door swing open, and shut. The next movement of the visitor is swift and surprising, as you feel cool skin press against yours. It shocks you, the side of the face which is pressed against yours, but the familiar smell of laundry detergent tells you who it is.
“Jake,” you groan, “why aren’t you at the dance?” You don’t move and neither does the head which is resting against yours.
“Didn’t feel like going,” you feel him shrug. The show running on your laptop screen flickers between scene transitions and it offers you a view of Jake’s head pressed against yours for a brief second before it goes back to full colour.
“Didn’t you have a date with Mindy?” You ask, knowing full well that Mindy had been, and had made no show of hiding, fully obsessed with Jake for a good part of three months now. She had asked him to the valentines dance and had been insufferably pleased when he had agreed.
“She’s sick,” he gives another shrug which you feel against your face, “this thing is catching like wildfire.”
Jake flicks the bridge of your nose as he says it, and you wrinkle your nose in response as you start to move to sit up, shrugging him off you.
“Yeah, but you could have still gone,” you say sniffling as you sit up to look at Jake who is now sitting on your bed. He looks as Jake Seresin always looks, skin slightly bronzed with a healthy glow from a constant routine of football practice, eyes bright, and hair casually tousled.
“Nah,” he says without much of an explanation. Jake reaches across you for your laptop before settling against the head board of your bed.
“Why not?” You press, body still seated upright as you watch him stop the show that is playing before flicking out of it and through the list of titles you have on your laptop for another show.
“Doesn’t seem like it’ll be that interesting,” he answers offhandedly.
“And staying in with a sick person is,” you say bluntly with a scoff as your eyes narrow suspiciously. “You’ll still be able to make it in time if you leav-”
Jake cuts you off immediately as he lifts himself from the headboard for a second, which is long enough for him to sling an arm around your neck. He lets himself fall back against the headboard with a thud, dragging you with him. You land, face smushed between his bicep and the side of his chest, elbow on his thigh.
“Jake,” you yelp in protest, only for him to shush you as he continues scrolling through the titles on your laptop, clearly unperturbed.
“Fantasy or action?”
II.
“Wristbands,” Seth, one of Jake’s teammates hollers, as he approaches the group waving a stack of paper wristbands in a myriad of green, orange and red.
He makes his way around the group making quick work of disseminating the bands according to the availability status of each member of the group.
“Red?” You ask as he reaches you and Jake who are hanging at the back end of the group, the last two red bands left in Seth’s hands.
“Apparently,” he starts while glancing back over his shoulder, “there’ve been some changes to the status of certain members of our team.”
“Surely they must have more green bands,” you say craning your neck to look towards the entry booth.
“Green is oversubscribed unfortunately.”
“Figures,” you murmur as you reach out to receive one red band with Seth proffers. A valentines day event in a club, it figured that the most popular colour would be green and plenty of the actual couples would have taken their celebrations elsewhere instead.
“Don’t sulk,” Jake chuckles as he slaps the red band onto his wrist with less fuss than you “I’ll let you take me home for the night.”
He finishes his sentence off by snaking an arm around your waist and pulling you into flush against his side.
“What a catch,” you say, tone mocking, but you don’t fight the movement. You slide the hand that has landed on Jake’s upper bicep up his shoulder to steady yourself.
“And all yours for the night,” he says with a joking leer. You roll your eyes outwardly but feel a tug south towards the pit of your stomach.
-
“So much for a valentines day event,” you grumble as you step into your apartment, fingers working on tearing the red paper wrist band off.
Your grumbling earns you an amused chuckle from Jake who steps in after you while shutting the door behind him. The apartment is silent with your roommate out at her girlfriend’s for the night.
“Hey, you still went home with the hottest guy in the club,” Jake jokes as you walk towards the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of water from the fridge. You are both lightly buzzed from the steady stream of drinks you had ingested, in a way that makes a person slightly reckless but still in complete control of their mental facilities.
“Did I really,” you uncap the bottle with a twist before putting it to your lips and tilting your head back. You lean against the counter, gaze still on Jake as he comes to a stop in front of you, arms crossed loosely in front of his chest. You lower the bottle from your lips only for Jake to reach out and pluck it from your grasp.
“I’m curious,” he pauses to take a sip from the bottle, before taking a step towards you, trapping you between himself and the counter behind you, “what was it you were looking for tonight that has you so bummed.”
Jake places the bottle down on the counter beside you before leaving his hand on the counter. He rests his other hand on his hip, stance almost caging you in. Jake lips are quirked into a smirk, but the amusement doesn’t hit the intensity behind his eyes. You feel your knees go weak, and you press yourself back against the counter for support, the marble edge digging into your back a reminder for you to keep breathing.
“I don’t know,” you say, eyes locked onto Jake’s. You can smell the sickly sweet scent of red bull from the trio of Jägerbombs you both had downed before deciding to call it a night, “something fun.”
“Something fun,” Jake drawls, his voice a low hum. Jake’s eyes are focused on yours and you resist the urge to let your gaze dart to his lips.
“Yeah,” the affirmation comes out more petulant than you had intended, and you see Jake lose the same battle you had been having with yourself as his gaze flickers to your lips for a split second.
“I cou-” he doesn’t finish his sentence thanks to a series of loud knocks which pierce through the tension between you both.
“GUYS OPEN OPEN.”
“You left without us.”
“How could you leave without us.”
“We want pizza!”
The voices of a group of males, his teammates echo from behind your front door. You see a tiny frown pass Jake’s face as he drops his head slightly before taking a step back and pushing himself away from you with his hand thats still pressed against the counter.
“Coming,” you half yell, half hiss as you make a scramble for the door. Although the tenants of the apartment block were largely students, it didn’t always guarantee a free pass for noise late a night.
You swear you hear Jake swear quietly to himself as you yank open the door in a flurry to make way for a line of tipsy, rowdy football boys to stumble in.
III.
They are there when you get into the office, long stemmed tulips in white, red and pink sitting in a long glass vase. A rough glance has you guessing that they are anywhere from 30-40 stems sitting on your desk.
You don’t need to look at the small white card sitting beside the vase to know who they are from. They aren’t from Dan because he had his red roses sent to you at home the day before.
If you got yourself a girlfriend you would have someone to send flowers to on Valentines day.
You shoot the text to Jake with a smile on your lips. He replies almost instantly.
You would miss my flowers.
Hah, you wish.
Admit it.
The smile on your fave brightens as you read Jake’s latest reply. You position yourself beside the flowers before extending a hand and flipping on your front camera to take a picture of yourself looking exasperated with the tulips in frame before firing the photo off to Jake.
IV.
“I love you,” you hear the quiet words against your skin as Jake presses a kiss to side of your head before pressing another kiss behind your ear.
“I love you too,” you say as you absently tilt your head, allowing him to press another kiss to the side of your neck. You let yourself sink further against Jake, both of content to be in each other company, neither truly focused on the soft murmur of the television flickering in front of you.
The lights of the living room are dim, and your children are all tucked away in bed, the remnants of valentines day scattered around the living room - flowers they had exchanged with friends at school, chocolates and glittery cards, which they had all paraded to you and Jake before bestowing their own versions of the same on both of you. Jake had given you your flowers earlier in the day, along with one mind blowing orgasm before you had both gotten out of bed for the day, but the quiet time you both had now was what you found yourself enjoying most about the day, or of any day, really.
“Should we continue where we left off this morning,” you hear Jake say beside you ear as his hands drift along the sides of your body, fingers starting to dip beneath your top.
“I don’t think we really left anything hanging this morning,” you hum in response.
“I can’t seem to remember,” Jake’s hands brush against the underside of your breasts as you slide a hand up his thigh, “guess you just have to remind me then.”
I should be asleep, but I'm not. So here I am humbling asking for anything Dad!Flyboy Jake. 🥰
this (as has everything else) has been in my ask box was way too long. this was inspired by a video i saw (which i have lost the link to). i can 100% see this happening. flyboy but can be read as a standalone.
-
You aren’t sure what you have walked into.
“No, I’m Dad.”
“No! Jake.”
“No, I’m Dad to you.”
“Nooo! Jake.”
You shut the car door on the passengers side, before you turn to look at the stand off that is currently ongoing. Jake in the drivers seat, his body turned and angled back to stare at your youngest daughter. She has her hands crossed over her chest, bottom lip turned out in a stubborn pout, brows furrowed over those famous Seresin green eyes, expression accusatory.
“I don’t know who told you that sweetheart, but I’m Dad to you.”
“No, not Dad.”
“I am Dad.”
You have to bite down on your bottom lip to stop the laughter that threatens to bubble over. After a few kids, you knew better - laughing would make something stick even more; and judging by the look of shock, hurt and bewilderment on Jake’s face, this was something he did not want sticking.
“JAKE,” the little roar from the backseat has you digging your fingers into your jeans to prevent you from bursting out into a fit of giggles.
“Dad,” Jake insists back exasperated, voice louder but with no threat or malice.
You meet his eyes and he looks at you, almost pleading.
“How do I deal with this,” he murmurs in a low tone just for your ears only.
“Ignore it, she’ll grow out of it,” you mumble back quietly but loud enough for Jake to hear, in the way only experienced parents can. Truth to be told, you had no idea - this wasn’t something you had experienced with your older kids.
“I can’t believe she government named me,” Jake says again, as he turns back to face the front, hands working to strap himself into his seat. He hazards a glance into the rear view mirror to spot his youngest still pouting, staring daggers into the back of his head. He bites back a sigh - this was, without a doubt, the sweetest and yet the feistiest of the brood - and that was saying a lot.
You offer Jake a smile, before reaching over to rub a thumb against his cheek, your fingers scratching the side of his hair gently.
“I’ll call you Daddy,” you say into his ear as you lean over the middle console to plant a kiss on the side of his face.
“Never stop,” Jake says back, turning his head to catch your lips in a quick kiss before giving you a quick wink, with the hint of a leer.
“Car move, Jake,” the little petulant voice comes again from the backseat.
“Dad will move the car,” he says back loudly, before reaching forward to press the ignition button. You shake your head ruefully before leaning back in your seat and pushing your sunglasses down to shade your eyes. Seresins.
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I have a question about the Flyboy universe..so we know that Jake considers their bedroom/bed as a sacred space and doesn't want the kids staying their for the night, does that rule only apply when he's around? I mean knowing him, probably one of the reasons why he doesn't want them staying is because he doesn't want them stealing his bedtime cuddles from you and hog you 😂
So I was wondering if he's more okay with them staying in your bedroom and sleeping in your bed when he's not around/deployed? Or does he make you promise before he leaves to not let them stay? I'm sorry it's such a random ass question 🫠🫠
ok are you guys all the same, or are you guys different - regardless where are you all / you coming from because i LOVE this 😭 thank you for indulging me.
that is absolutely 100% correct - he does NOT want to share or find himself in a situation where he NEVER gets his kids out of his bed because between all of them and life he needs alone time with you.
oh that actually is a good question that i haven’t given thought to HM. i think he’ll lay down the ground rules as law (i.e. the expectation that the bedroom is a no kids sleeping over zone) and this absolutely holds when you both are around, but when he isn’t around and if you need a kid or two (or they need you) because you guys miss him too much he’ll close an eye. but once he is back - out the kids go.
when you aren’t around on the other hand, he probably won’t budget - but if you checked the nanny cam in your youngest kids room, you might find Jake sprawled out on the floor under a sort of make shift bed / sheet contraption
kshfoshdkdjd i know you imagined him as the one walking in, but i can only think of flyboy!jake as the accomplice to those brows - and yes of course this is this child but when she was a baby.
-
“Hey,” you call out as you enter the foyer of the house, kicking off your flats while you lock the front door behind you.
“In here,” you hear Jake’s voice call from the kitchen. You had a meet up with some old friends who were in town, and Jake had taken the kids for the afternoon.
You walk through the living room, ruffling heads and planting kisses on your older children who allow you, but mostly have their eyes glued to the movie that is playing, before you enter the kitchen to find Jake sitting on a bar stool beside the island you have in the middle of the kitchen, looking down at his laptop.
“Missed you,” he says as you approach him to greet him hello with a kiss to the side of his mouth. You had both gotten older with more children between you - but Jake was still your Jake; that never changed. You hum in response, indicating agreement m and you feel him squeeze your waist.
“How’s my baby?” You ask, dumping your bag onto the island counter - Jake knows this time you mean the child babbling to herself in the high chair beside him, who you hadn’t had the chance to look at yet, but he reaches down to tap your ass gently with his palm anyway and responds.
“I’m good.”
It makes you roll your eyes, as you turn to your youngest daughter, hands outstretched and ready to pick her up, only for you to freeze, as you stare at the two very black brows which she has etched onto her face in eyeliner.
Your brain moves to find words as your laughter babbles at you, her tiny hands reaching out for her mother, and it escapes you - a laugh that soon turns into peals of laughter. You are unable to form words, and let Jake pull you towards him.
“Like it?” He asks, almost too cheekily for a father of that many children. He hadn’t done the brows - the older kids had, and his reaction has been exactly the same as yours.
“The kids?” You manage to gasp out, knowing that it must have been them.
“They got into the eyeliner you left out in the living room,” he says, holding you with a grin, the feeling of your body shaking with laughter something he can still feel against his.
